Amplifying the music, books, movies and journalism that matter.
Life is complicated and busy. Did you notice? Keeping up with the music, movies and books that fed your youthful imagination and conversations is harder than ever, but even more important. Here's the good news: there's never been more great new stuff. The challenge is to find it.
So here are my highly opinionated views on sounds, sights and words that will help you keep it fresh and real, and links to the veins where the richest motherlodes can be found.
Who would have thought that the one-name guy who gave us the jokey, brainworm "Loser" in 1994 or a couple of years later, the paen to hipsterism "Where It's At" ("two turntables and a microphone"), would twenty years later produce a reflective, hypnotic adult pop album for the ages?
Morning Phase is the name of this surprise from Beck. It is -- without hyperbole -- a masterpiece of the kind that come along once in a decade or so. Texturally unified (and beautifully so), it sets the kind of spellbinding mood that was conjured by Roxy Music's Avalon, Mitchell's Heijera, U2's Joshua Tree orWilco's Sky Blue Sky without sounding like any of them.Pink Moon, anyone?
In a world full of hard, angular hip-hop, this is beautiful music. Slowed down, full of string washes with occasional bluegrass-y fills, Morning Phase is music about the start of something -- a new day, adulthood, life after a dark time. Like all such beginnings, it's not clear what will follow and there is a tone of apprehension and dread to some of these songs. But the musical mood it sets is one of relief: "thank God that's over."
Listen to "Blue Moon" and "Say Goodbye," two tracks that show the range of the album:
Morning Phase is the kind of work has made me keep faith with pop music and its endless ability to surprise and satisfy.
I can still remember hearing the sound of dub for the first time in 1980 on the Clash's Sandinista. It was a gateway drug that led me straight to Linton Kwesi Johnson's Forces of Victory and Dennis Bovell's Brain Damage. And then, of course, I recognized how much its sound had influenced everyone from Culture Club to the Police, all of whom had been soaking in the work of reggae geniuses like King Tubby and Lee "Scratch" Perry through the 70's. Dub was a reggae beat slowed down and opened up with reverb and echo. It was a musical rebuke to Margaret Thatcher.
But who would have thought that more than three decades later this beat would animate Wellington, New Zealand's Fat Freddy's Drop, a self-described "seven headed soul monster"? Their Blackbird is a a gumbo of soulful horns, organ, and swampy rhythm guitar that could have easily have been Sly Stone's follow-up to Fresh (if he had gone to Kingston and gotten his shit together).
So forget that it's from way down down under and sample Fat Freddy's Drop and their "Blackbird." Time to get wise.
As the year starts with the snow swirling, I can't get enough of a 2013 disk that came to me via WSJ critic Jim Fusilli's year end column (he's a very reliable guide, but that's a subject for another post).
The album is Feeling Good by the West Yorkshire trip-hop team, Nightmares on Wax. Built around DJ George Evelyn, NoW is now in most ways a performing band but with the roots of its mixmaster boss. Evelyn has a deep feel for the soul sounds he was raised on: Mayfield, Marley and Motown all show through. His pedigree as a producer includes work with De La Soul in the early aughts.
Can I find superlatives enough? No, I cannot. Feeling Good is the equal of the best work of Massive Attack and Groove Armada, steeped in dub and reggae, classic soul and ambient sounds. The other night at my house, it had the whole room quietly pulsing -- twenty-somethings to fifty-somethings --and no one said, "Can you turn this down?"
CHECK THIS OUT: NoW kicking "Be, I Do" and then think, "Gee, if every track is as good as this this, shouldn't Feeling Good be playing in my ears/car/party right now?"
There was great new music coming out of everywhere this year, but vintage rock and soul are like a dog whistle to me. I hear it and I come running. Turn it up.
10. "Adorn," Miguel - A late 2012 release that lit up my near year. Robin Thicke wasn't the only guy stealing moves from Marvin. Man cast a long shadow.
9. "Peach Blossom," the Eels - A workout song that makes you you feel faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive.
8. "Down Down the Deep River," Okkerville River - "But it's not alright, it's not even close to alright."
7. "Reflector," Arcade Fire - Arcade Fire burning bright for over 7 minutes. Light my fire.
6. "When a Fire Starts to Burn," Disclosure - Uh, oh. Dancing in the kitchen again to the sound of EDM.
5. "Simple Twist of Fate," Sarah Jarosz - The cover of the year. Breathtaking.
4. "King and Cross," Asgeir - Icelandic guy singing English phonetically perhaps? Hey, it worked for ABBA.
3. "Get Lucky," Daft Punk - I've heard it about three million times and I'm still not done with the Nile Rogers rhythm guitar line. Le Freak, c'est chic.
2. "Blurred Lines," Robin Thicke - Trashy, trashy, trashy. "Everybody get up," starts Pharrell. And did we ever.
1. "Her Favorite Song," Mayer Hawthorne - Mayer doing his very convincing blue-eyed soul thing, with the best hook of the year. Extra points for the basset at the turntable. (R.I.P. Woodrow)
Honorable Mentions:
"The It Switch," Johnny Marr
"Hold On, We're Going Home," Drake
"Agape," Bears Den
"Falling (Psychemagik Remix)," HAIM
Electronic sounds run through this year's list -- I found them irresistible. Hip-hop may be the backbone of most pop music in 2013, but the sound of EDM (electronic dance music) is seeping in everywhere around the edges. It's not a new sound, to be sure; it's the metronomic beat that animated disco, the synth-y gloss of New Wave, the booming bottom of House, and the sonic wash of Eno's ambient music.
But that's not all you'll find on the list. There's classic R&B from an old school blues hand, a dead-on album of stark alt country songs, power pop to die for, and a brand new diva. If most of these sounds have the upbeat hum of contentment and joy, it's no coincidence. 2013 brought me much joy: health, happiness, family. Hope there was much of that in your year, too.
1. Rhye, Woman
This was a constant on my virtual turntable, the morning, noon and night sound of 2013: the dreamy sound of obsessive love in the unmistakable, androgynous voice of Mike Milosh.
This year, there was no better case than this for the power of albums to create s sustained musical mood. By turns minimalist and danceable, Rhye's Woman has claimed a place alongside Roxy Music's Avalon as an enduring statement of romanticism.
"The Fall" will make clear why:
2. Jason Isbell, Southeastern
I was not a Drive-By Truckers fan. If there was a joke behind that band (which Isbell fronts), I never got it. But Jason Isbell on his own is no joke. His songs are all about exposed pain and they are as real and immediate as anything Dylan, Cash, Willie or Jerry Jeff ever served up. He's heir to them all.
This is spare, unadorned music about important stuff. Pay attention.
3. HAIM, Days Are Gone
Haim, the sister act of 2013, make the case for California pop as the perfect expression of American music. In their debut, the Eagles, Rumors-era Fleetwood Mac, the Bangles and the Byrds are all whirling around in a sonic Cuisinart.
"Days Are Gone" is a captivating confection, hopelessly overhyped and proudly unimportant -- but totally satisfying, a musical Dove Bar. Take the wrapper off "Falling" and take a big bite.
4. Kurt Vile, Waking on a Pretty Day
A Philadelphia story, Vile starts with the under-appreciated band War on Drugs and ends up recording a solo mash-up of Neil Young and the Kinks. Velvet Underground undertones season this liberally. Waking on a Pretty Daze perfectly makes the case that "quiet is the new loud."
"Never Run Away" is a succinct expression of this and Vile's unique talent.
5. Minor Alps, Get There
I came late to the Nada Surf party and now devour their output. Smart power pop songs are nothing to sneer at and doing them well is genius. In my book, Nada Surf is in a league with Marshall Crenshaw and Mathew Sweet.
Minor Alps is a side-project of NS frontman Mathew Caws teaming up with Juliana Hatfield. Their voices and musical sensibilities blend beautifully and typically on "Waiting for You."
6. Jessie Ware, Devotion
Ware's Devotion was released last year in the UK where it was Mercury Prize nominated, but didn't turn up here until 2013. And I was waiting, believe me.
Ware is what Sade would sound like if she sang out loud. She has an enormous voice and a great feel for R&B. "If You"re Never Gonna Move" makes the case perfectly.
7. Washed Out, Paracosm
Washed Out is the sound of a certain zeitgeist. His "Feel It All Around" opens Portlandia, the wickedly funny spoof of aging hipsters everywhere. Washed Out is Ernest Greene; evidently on the chillwave scene, you need a nom de musique other than your own.
Paracosm sits in the "daytime disco" space that Poolside's Pacific Standard Time occupied on my list last year. Melodic, airy electronica with feet firmly rooted in R&B, it's music for millennials, as the video for "All I Want" makes plain. Listen anyway.
8. Vampire Weekend, Modern Vampires of the City
This was the disc that made clear these guys are in it for the long haul. The songs are more varied and their Afro-pop is toned down. But the lyrical and musical freshness -- which initially, and still, win them comparisons to Paul Simon -- are here on vivid display.
There are shout outs to Modern Vampires on so many year end lists right now. Believe them. And if you're skeptical, listen to "Obvious Bicycle."
9. James Blake, Overgrown
Blake is a genre-hopping wunderkind, but the texture of much of this music has the open space feel of Massive Attack's classic Protection. There is melody here to soften the sound of longing and loss, and it's what makes this music feel so redemptive to me.
Overgrown is the only "challenging" disc on this year's list, but on repeated listening it reveals the soul sensibility that is at the heart of Blake's music. You could imagine Mavis Staples singing "Digital Lion" and making it her own.
10. Boz Scaggs, Memphis
Written off for his disco-tinged '80's hits, Boz has always been a blues singer at heart. On this return to form, he serves up an album of covers that are dripping with the sound of Al Green's classic Hi recordings (think the swampy sound of "Let's Stay Together"). We get some southern soul classics, like "Rainy Night in Georgia" and "Love on a Two Way Street" that he predictably slays, and some Willy deVille songs resurrected from obscurity. Put on this old school gem and see how long it takes for folks to recognize his unmistakable sound.
Start with his sweet version of Tryone Davis' "Can I Change My Mind."
Still to come for those with shorter attention spans, "Best Singles of 2013."
Back in the early 70's, the appearance of every guitar strumming talent prompted murmurings of "the new Dylan." We heard it famously about Springsteen when he burst forth with "Greetings..", but we also heard it endless, about Loudon Wainwright, John Prine, Patti Smith, Warren Zevon. Dylan was barely in his 30's by then, but he was the reference point. If you sang sophisticated lyrics and had an unconventional voice, you were the "new Dylan."
Flash forward forty years. Here's Jason Isbell, lately a member of the alt-country Drive By Truckers. He has the aching vocal strain of Ryan Adams, the lyrical sophistication (and bleakness) of Zevon. Songs of hard luck, regret and hope. A shoe-in for my top ten of 2013.
You know his "Stockholm" from your favorite indie radio station. His poignant, "Different Days" will remind you of another new Dylan, Cat Stevens (in his best moments).
But the masterpiece is this heartbreaker, "Relatively Easy."
My Dad died three and half years ago at 88 and the speed with which my Mother emptied the closets was breathtaking. This is a widow's prerogative and no one would question how they choose to grieve and begin to live their lives without a partner. But by the time I looked up from my own grief, the personal trappings of his life were mostly dispersed.
I have held onto four things. First, a blue plaid Brooks Brothers shirt that I gave him to brighten his wardrobe and pamper him; he would have never spent this much on a shirt, as he tirelessly declared about so many things. I wear it now rarely and usually to family gatherings where no one seems to recognize it as his. It's a reminder of our different frames in all senses.
Second, is a too narrow, shamrock covered tie, a St. Patrick's Day staple of his when it was a proud declaration of his heritage. Being Irish, for him and me, entails at its core a sharp awareness of the blessings that illuminate a troubled world. My family finds this perplexing enough. I do not need to wear the tie to remind them.
Then there's his Cross pen which he was never without. "Anyone have a pen?" He always had this one. The first appeared in the late 60's when they were the ne plus ultra of corporate gifts. A stream arrived, bearing logos and inscriptions; I lost every one he gave me until my Mother gave me this one of his after his death. After a frantic few days when I thought I had misplaced it, this one rarely leaves my bureau. When I hold it, I feel connected to him. It's totemic.
And finally there's this music. I introduced him to Louis Jordan when I was in my thirties and our relationship had been repaired. While Jordan's music was from his generation, it was unknown to him. He loved it as much as I did. I heard the roots of rock and roll taking shape and he heard the romp of the big bands.
To hear it now is to see his face beaming, in thrall of its syncopated rhythm and sly wordplay. "Take me right back to the track, Jack."
